Miura

Ferruccio Lamborghini started out modest: he had become quite successful building tractors, air conditioning equipment, and oil heaters. One thing his pedestrian modesty made possible: he could afford the finest of automobiles around. His stable held Alfas, Lancias, Mercedes,  Maserati, and Ferrari.

A man enjoys his Ferraris, but Ferruccio felt they were to rough and uncivilized to be great road cars. They were race cars in road car’s clothes. And they had inferior clutches! His cars took frequent trips back to Maranello for repairs. 

He brought his complaints to the prideful Enzo and was dismissed as not knowing what he was speaking of. Incensed, Ferruccio went home and successfully modify one of his Ferraris to better-than-factory spec. So… why not go one better and build his own cars? Automobile Lamborghini was born in 1963.

The Lamborghini Miura should never have happened. Ferruccio Lamborghini was partial to powerful and dignified grand touring automobiles, not the screaming, aggressive, race-car bred cars of his nemesis Enzo Ferrari. Designing behind the back of il comandatore, Gian Paolo Dallara, Bob Wallace, and Paolo Stanzani spent nights and weekends producing a prototype of their dream car. It was called the P400. 

The trio wanted to create a road car with a race car in its soul. A car as equally at home on the track as it was on the open road. Only one problem could not be solved on paper, or in the shop: they just had to convince Ferruccio that it would not be too expensive to build nor take away from the rest of the line. They prevailed; Lamborghini gave his blessings and allowed the engineers to run free.

Ferruccio was, in the end, so taken with the new car he named it Miura, after a sleek, tough breed of fighting bulls he had seen in Seville, Spain. He also decided to take the image of a raging bull as his automobile company’s crest.

Marcello Gandini penned a body that would inspire a trance like state in any petrol-head with a heart beat. The Miura debuted at the 1966 Geneva motor show to rave reviews from all who saw it.

But. 

The Bertone body was finished only days before its premier… the builders had no chance at all to see if the transversely mounted 12 cylinder engine would fit in its allotted space behind the bulkhead and in front of the rear wheels. No matter what, the car had to be at the Show in Geneva. Finally, a ruse was planned: ballast would put in in place of the motor, and the hood would remain kept locked. Fortunately, the smooth, fast-talking Lamborghini staff kept the curious motoring press from getting a peek at the alleged power plant. 

Even without an engine, the Miura was the star of the show. It solidified Gandini’s reputation as a top-flight designer of automobiles. With so many accolades under its belt, the Miura was put straight into production. Produced between 1966 and 1973, from its inception it was the fastest production car on the road.

If you look up “Italian sports car” in the dictionary, this is what you should find. It might also be cross-referenced under “totally sexy.” Impossibly low, sleek, 12 cylinders, and a front end that, when you see it in your mirror, says—

get out of the way quick!

You find the door latch hidden amongst the side strakes just behind the window. Now bend down as low as you can go, and climb into the tiny cabin of the beast. The thin bucket seat holds you deeply and firmly, with a headrest mounted separately on the bulkhead.

The leather-covered steering wheel greets you at an upward angle with the two big Jaeger gages close behind. All other information is housed in a center console with gages set to face  the driver for a quick look at what else is transpiring. The gated shifter, with a lock-out for reverse has its lever angled over slightly for easier reach. Looking in the Miura’s rearview mirror put’s you in mind of Franco’s statement in The Gumboil Rally: “My friend, the first rule of Italian driving. What’s behind me is not important!” 

The Miura begs to differ. When it fires up, you know what’s important. That nasty V12 popping and howling behind your head—that's important!

 On the road, the Miura is not happy unless you are opening its Webers wide and feeding it fuel so it can pin you to the seat back. It does not enjoy low speeds. And—who are you to refuse this beautiful machine?  So, foot down. The steering lightens up, and you upshift slowly through the gears with some muscle; you’re in driving Nirvana . The ride is not gentle, but somehow you forgive it. Is the Miura a car you could drive every day? Probably not. But the days you do will stay in your memories for a long, long time.

Thanks go to Bob Torre for letting out his raging bull.

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